


We Have Each Other

by codewordpumpkin



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23369812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codewordpumpkin/pseuds/codewordpumpkin
Summary: Continuation of the ballet recital that made us all weep with love and joy.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Comments: 26
Kudos: 105





	We Have Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> I had really been struggling to write recently, but last night's episode... Need I say more?

Her heart, which had been bursting with pride even before Agnes had come up to twirl adorably on stage, began to flutter dangerously as she caught sight of him—

Kissing a tall, blonde woman with whom he obviously shared a past.

A woman who was not her.

She had no right to feel jealous of this woman or possessive over him, and yet…

Here, in the shadows of the room, Elizabeth could admit to herself that she hated everything about what she was seeing: the way they were in each other’s space, close enough to feel the other’s heat, to smell the other’s scent… _God_ , did this woman love his aftershave as much as she did? The enticing combination of soap and sandalwood and a hint of musk that was unique to Red? _And what about him?_ Did he like her perfume? Was it as potent as Madeline Pratt’s had been? Whatever she wore, he obviously didn’t mind it…

Was it the hair that he liked?

She could never forget how he had looked at her when she’d come out of the spacious bathroom, her locks no longer a dark brown but a golden blonde; the way his eyes had bulged and his breath had hitched and his tongue…

His tongue that was probably inside this nameless woman’s mouth. 

Not having the stomach to witness any more of their affectionate display, she was just about to turn around when the woman abruptly walked off, leaving Raymond looking… Hurt? Conflicted? Torn?

The last time she had seen that expression on his face was when she had told him she loved him.

_So, what the hell was she supposed to make of that?_

Before she could even realize what she was doing—and think better of it—she was standing a few feet away from him.

“Hey,” she said, doing her best to act like she didn’t just intrude on an intimate moment. “You made it.”

“Elizabeth,” he nodded, a bland mask already in place, “I told you, I would.”

“And you brought a friend.”

 _Damn it. Why couldn't_ _she just keep her mouth shut?_

He didn’t reply—just quirked the corner of his lips as more of an acknowledgment than anything else.

Clearing her throat—which suddenly felt about as dry as sandpaper—she slowly drawled, “I was going to ask if you wanted to join us for dinner, but if you have plans—”

“I don’t.”

_Oh._

“Then… Meet us at my apartment in about an hour?”

“I’ll bring the wine.”

This time, his smile reached his eyes.

* * *

Dinner had been a small but successful affair that consisted of expensive wine, cheap pizza, silly expressions and tittering giggles. It had taken all of five minutes for shy, little Agnes to warm up to their two guests, immediately tugging on their arms and clasping their hands, showing off her many drawings and the tutu she refused to get out of and her collection of books that they promised to later read together.

Agnes had been out like a light before they even got to the second book, and Dembe had excused himself shortly after, leaving Red and Elizabeth alone in her now quiet apartment.

With the table cleared and the dishes washed, there was nothing left for them to do except settle into her couch and finish the wine that had already begun to buzz through her veins.

“Thank you for coming tonight—to both the recital and to dinner,” she said, turning to the side so she could face him better. “It meant a lot to us.”

His nod was jerky, his voice low when he replied, “To me, too.”

“... You were right—when you said I deserved a bigger life.” She watched him over the rim of her glass, and she knew he could feel her gaze when he began to fidget, crossing his legs and brushing off imaginary lint. “But so do you.”

He huffed softly, not out of humor but… defeat. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Draining the last of her liquid courage, she placed her glass on the coffee table and sidled next to him, their thighs touching. “How about…” Reaching for his hand, she brought it up to cradle her cheek, pressing a kiss to his palm before simply holding it there, her fingers over his. “… We start here?”

* * *

_I wanted to run away with you. You didn't._

_What you misjudged was the reason why. You thought it was about you—it wasn't._ _I had… obligations._

That may have been true then, but today, here in her dim living room, seated on her couch, with her face in his hand and her hand over his… He could see that Cassandra had been right.

Perhaps they could have flown to France and enjoyed a few weeks of simple pleasures, but their time would have been tainted with the memory of everything— _of everyone_ —he had left behind. And that wouldn’t have been fair to either of them—least of all her. Not after she saw that… that she wasn’t Elizabeth.

Cassandra, like many women over the years, could have warmed his body in a cool set of sheets, could have challenged his mind over dinner and drinks, could have flown with him to see and listen to the wonders of the world both big and small…

But she wasn’t the woman he wanted. The woman he needed.

She didn’t have thick, brunette tresses that smelled like strawberry shampoo. She didn’t have porcelain skin that he wished to explore every inch of. She didn’t make dinosaur-shaped grilled-cheese sandwiches. She didn’t have eyes that drowned you and a smile that redeemed you. She didn’t send him to hell with a single accusation. She didn’t shove him against bookshelves or stab pens in his carotid. She just… 

_She wasn't_ _Elizabeth._

“Lizzie…” His thumb moved of its own volition, tracing the shape of her cheekbone, down the line of her jaw, the plump pillow of her bottom lip… “I—”

Whatever he was about to say never made it past the lump in his throat when she nipped his thumb in a way that, paired with her outwardly innocent grin, sent his heart racing and his blood heating and—

“We may not have the lives we envisioned once upon a time, Red,” she began quietly, as if sharing a secret, “but we have each other, don’t we?”

_You may have come into her life out of obligation..._

Not trusting his voice just yet, he released her face but gently clasped her hand, stroking the raised tissue of her scar before kissing it with reverence.

“We have each other.”

 _But you're staying_ _in it for love._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone is still an emotional mess like I am.


End file.
